


The Blues and The Yellows

by Familiae



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Flirting, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:09:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Familiae/pseuds/Familiae
Summary: If you can’t be a Hufflepuff, be with a Hufflepuff.





	1. Chapter 1

The train coach rocked to an unsteady rhythm that made it difficult to stand for long with little to no support—the very walls vibrated with the movement of the train. There was little surprise then that Jonah found himself half-stumbling, half-walking, all so he could reach a compartment. He stopped before one, struggled to get his fingers between the latch of the door, and slid the door open with enough force to send him reeling a few trembling steps on the hallway, throwing his hands out to catch his balance on the far back wall.  
  
Unsurprisingly, four blank faces stared back at him—openly puzzled as to who would be this intruder. Jonah had the tact to smile sheepishly, his eyes flicking away from the faces (none of them all that familiar—he recognized the far back girl with a shock of brown curls and a dusting of freckles on her face, although her name eluded him at the moment. “I, ah, thought Shannon was here?” tack on a smile and try to look like you didn’t nearly fall on your face.  
  
One of the three girls nodded her blond head at him, “She was, but she left to do something else. Maybe you’ll find her with Kim.”  
  
Jo nodded, teetered, tottered, then turned look back at them shooting a, “Thanks!” over his shoulder. Where Kim could be he had no idea, but he was sure that if he followed his ears—the loud squeals and giggles that followed Kim like fine perfume—he’d find his friends soon enough.  
  
Thus he continued his trek on the train hallways, stopping every so often to peek through the windows of some of the compartments and frown thoughtfully at the ones with shut blinds. Jonah had made the dear mistake of stalling before the train started moving—chattering with some old classmates between the train coaches, giggling and laughing about who-knows-what. He had been so absorbed in the conversation—catching up on the times, retelling his summer vacation adventures and woes, that when the train whistle had sounded he had paid it no mind. A few more seconds, he had told himself as he listened to the last bit of a tale, only nodding when Shannon had warned him that she was departing—and you wouldn’t believe what Lukas did, the conversation continued.  
  
Gasps of sympathy, little mumbled oh noes, and another whistle of the train and the engine was suddenly rumbling, the wheels creaking, and the little party between the coaches hastily splitting. Jonah had lingered still, a few last laughs with the straggling party before they departed, and then he was left with the sudden realization that he had no idea where his friend had gone.  
  
One wouldn’t think it was so easy to lose a whole teenager. He was starting out this school year very well. Now he was stuck searching for her, not that he blamed it on anyone but himself.  
  
It was as he approached the back of the coach that he noticed a figure slumped down on the floor, legs stretched before him, sitting down on the floor between the last compartment and a space between the back wall of the coach. As Jonah drew closer to it, the stranger lifted his head, pushing the mop of brown hair away from his eyes with a hand, and stared.  
  
From what Jonah could tell the guy was older than him, about the same height, and possibly sleep deprived. His brown hair hung straight and low over brown eyes, set in a fairly attractive face that was matched with equally attractive dark bags under his eyes. He was dressed rather simply—a black hoodie over a grey shirt, some dark jeans and a pair of used and abused sneakers. The guy looked about fit to roll over and sleep for a year. Instead of sleeping however, he simply looked on at Jonah, with a clear question written in his eyes.  
  
So of course Jonah had to fill the silence with words.  
  
“Hey,” he squeaked, drawing nearer to the stranger, “what’re you doing out here?”  
  
“Sleeping,” came the voice, gruff and weary.  
  
Jo decided to ignore the fact that his eyes had been wide open from the start, instead batting the comment aside with the quirk of his lips, “There’s an empty compartment like two doors down from here—you could try sleeping there?”  
  
The stranger seemed to consider that for a minute before giving a nod, shifting to brace himself against the wall, and stand, presumably. At least until Jo decided to thrust his hand forward with a chirpy: “Here, let me help you up.” There was a hesitation then as the stranger drank the information in, then he was clasping Jonah’s arm, struggling to stand in the cramped space.  
  
Once he was up Jonah turned away, leading the way towards the empty compartment, staying unusually silent as he went. He felt it was not his place to speak—the older student moved so quietly and said but a word. Usually he would have been putting together a string of words to keep up the chatter but, of what? He didn’t know what to tell the guy. In fact he didn’t even vaguely remember seeing his face before and a face like that wasn’t something you forgot easily.  
  
So Jonah chewed over his own thoughts, and eventually stopped before the compartment’s door, sliding it open with ease (perhaps growing used to the train’s tremors), and stepping aside so the other student could confirm with his own eyes that it was indeed, empty.  
  
“See? Empty,” Jonah said with a nod, “the train’s already moving. I doubt there will be much people going to and fro. I don’t think you’ll be bothered so you can go ahead and sleep all you want.”  
  
The stranger nodded, pausing before the door long enough to mumble, “Thanks,” before he walked inside. He stopped just before the window, giving the scenery a passing glance, and then flopped down on the seat, leaning his head back, testing the comfort of the plush green fabric.  
  
“Not a problem,” and with that Jonah supposed he was to make an awkward departure. He stalled, however, lingering by the doorway, watching the man tug at his hoodie, lean back, relax against the seats, but there was nothing else Jonah could say. His job here was done—he did all he could do. So he departed, taking a step back with a small polite smile still lingering in his lips and a nod in the stranger’s direction. He wanted to stay. An excuse to speak, to talk, but it was so obvious that company was not welcome. I’ll see him later, I suppose. He had a whole year to find the sleep-needy stranger once again.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Apparently there’s no need to wait the whole year.  
  
Jonah turned back towards the stranger, the smile tugging at the corner of his lips once more, curious and more than willing to hear what else this fellow might want to say.  
  
“Do you happen to know what a veela is?”  
  
A veela?  
  
“They’re um,” um, very eloquent, “they’re just a race of female—,” would beast, monsters or other be more appropriate to describe them? “kinda like nymphs? They’re supposed to entice males into getting cocky and such for them, but they’re really pissy.”  
  
Jonah had no idea if he was making sense, but Markus nodded, which must have meant he must have understood something.  
  
“You could read more on them if that Care of Magical Creatures textbook if you take that—or in the library,” and while they were in the subject of, well, talking, Jo assumed it was an invitation to continue the conversation: “Why are you asking?”  
  
“It’s a long story,” he said with a sigh.  
  
Jonah would have none of that. He walked into the compartment once again, and sat across from the student, demonstrating with actions that the guy had all of Jonah’s attention. “I’m listening.”  
  
“It’s boring,” his gaze shifted from Jonah to the window, “when we do we get there?”  
  
“Evening as always—why would—”  
  
A pause. Jonah heard the sound of wheels creaking inside his own head. “You’re a new guy?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Oh,” that felt so painfully... confusing. This guy was too old to be a first year. “But you’re not a first year. Are you an exchange student?”  
  
He shook his head.  
  
Now this was a stumper.  
  
“What’s up with that then?”  
  
He shrugged, “They found me now?”  
  
“But those owls are professional stalkers.”  
  
And now it was the guy’s turn to look confused, “I saw a lot of owls.”  
  
Oh. Did he come from muggle parents? He had to—it was the only explanation Jo could come up with. How he avoided the owls was a mystery that could be left for later, right now Jonah found himself sliding into friendly tutor mode. “Owls send your acceptance letters when you’re old enough to assist the school—usually that’s around age eleven or twelve.”  
  
Jonah could see him considering that, weighing the words and connecting them with what he must have seen or told, tracing the dots in his mind before he nodded slowly once. “They were a bit late with me.”  
  
“Wonder why that was.”  
  
Jonah didn’t really expect a real answer at this point—the guy shrugged, and settled back to look thoughtfully out the window, leaving Jonah with his own thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

Once an appropriate time of silence had passed (in which Jonah judged the older student had enough time to think), he squeaked, “I’m Jonah, by the way.”  
  
“Markus,” short. Simple. And straight to the point. Jonah thought Markus would keep his silence, but he shifted to look back at him, “Can you tell me more about the school?”  
  
Jonah couldn’t have been more delighted. “Sure. What are you curious about?”  
  
Markus seemed to consider that for a moment before he settled on a subject: “The classes,” his gaze moved from Jonah to the window once again, “they told me you learn about,” he hesitated, “magic, but that’s it.”  
  
Oh. Simple enough subject to ramble about, but where to start?  
  
“Well yeah—the classes are pretty much divided by magic types,” he paused, gauging Markus’ expression, trying to determine if he was starting the right way, “you have stuff like Charms where they teach you how to perform spells with a wand, and then there’s stuff like Potions where, well you mix stuff up and make a potion or it blows up in your face.” Jonah paused once more, but Markus waved him on—at least he seemed to be interested. “At first you take core classes—Potions and Charms are two of these. There’s also, um, Astronomy, herbology, history, magical theory” he refrained from explaining those three, they sounded pretty self explanatory, “Defense Against the Dark Arts that teaches you how to defend yourself in a magic fight, and Transfiguration where you turn things into animals or animals into things, and things into other things and so on.”  
  
“You can turn into animals?”  
  
“Uh, well, yes. In theory you yourself can turn into an animal, but in practice it’s not as simple. There’s rarely more than about ten registered Animagus—ah, wizards who turn into animals—at a time in any given country. It’s a rare skill, and requires a lot of effort to learn, and there’s always the chance you can end up with a rat tail or a caved in skull. You don’t really choose what you transform into. What you get is what you get, and there’s no going back on that. It tends to turn people off to say the least.”  
  
Markus nodded. Jonah gave him a moment to consider it before carrying on: “Besides that there’s more standard stuff like art, alchemy, music, ghost and creepy crawlies studies, and other branches of magic that are optional classes. Oh, and flying is mandatory for first years too.”  
  
“Flying?” Jonah had expected that question.  
  
“On brooms, yes. Like witch stories—we can fly on brooms.”  
  
Points for Markus, Jo thought—he seemed to take that pretty well. He frowned, nodded again, and shook his head. “That’s at first?”  
  
Jonah nodded and smiled, “Yes—at first. After second year you get a whole slew of new classes to choose from. Muggle studies, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes—”  
  
“Care of Magical Creatures? Like a unicorn?”  
  
“Yeah, though unicorns are feisty. They only let the girls near them. There’s also stuff like hippogriffs, manticores, and so on. It’s interesting as long as you like animals.”  
  
Markus nodded, possibly thinking about an ivory white unicorn or getting his head around the concept of a live manticore. Whatever the case he spoke up again to say: “That’s all?” before Jonah was off again.  
  
“There’s also arithmancy—I’m going to take that now. It’s the study of the magical properties of numbers. It’s really interesting,” he said with a grin, “like for example you take someone’s name,” he paused then, digging into the pocket of his jeans for a piece of paper, unsurprised to retrieve nothing but a folded and abused receipt. With a grunt, he dropped it to the floor, and instead fished for the wand stuffed on his own sweater, pausing long enough to grin at Markus once again. “Right, as I was saying: you take someone’s name and you can determine aspects of their personality using numbers. Like—you said you were Markus, right? With a ‘C’ or a ‘K’?”  
  
“’K’.”  
  
“Last name?”  
  
“Moreno.”  
  
“Right. Well you write down the name, and there’s certain values assigned to each letter, like this,” and to demonstrate Jonah traced the letters in the air, leaving hot trails of what looked like red floating jelly where the wand went, tracing the letters of Markus’ name with excited flourishes until the name was spelled on the space between them. He grinned at Markus from behind the letters, and in turn, Markus looked at them curiously, blinking as if he couldn’t quite believe his name was spelled out in the air. “Sorry it looks backwards to you,” Jonah said in a rush, “but it’s kinda hard to write the other way and—”  
  
The flow of his words ceased abruptly as Markus stood. He walked around the letters, sparing them a wide berth before he sat next to Jonah, still watching the letters with open curiosity. His gaze lingered on them before his eyes flicked back to Jonah. “Right. Sorry. Go on.”  
  
Jonah could do nothing more than blink stupidly. His face grew hot, and he had to avert his gaze from Markus’s warm eyes—deep brown—to look instead at the letters. His body suddenly couldn’t respond quite as he wanted it to, but somehow he managed to lift the wand once more without trembling, hesitating before speaking, half afraid the words would get stuck on his throat and he would be forced to choke around them.  
  
“Each letter has a value assigned,” he tried again, pointedly avoiding Markus’ gaze, “it’s a basic chart to obtain it, but if we did your name it would be something like, ah, ‘M’ equals four, and ‘A’ would equal one. In the end, it’d look something like this:  
  
M A R K U S M O R E N O  
  
4 1 9 2 3 1 4 6 9 5 5 6  
  
“The rest is basic math; you add the numbers, which in this case would give us fifty-five. I think. And then you reduce, zero is normally counted as one for these purposes, and if you continue like that you get three different numbers—character, heart, and social."  
  
“The number that I just calculated is the character one—it indicates personality. Now, if I remember this right, a one personality is supposed to be a loner and independent. If I were to do the rest of you now, hmm, give me a minute...” a frown, numbers ticked off in his head, the wand momentarily forgotten, Markus seemingly momentarily forgotten as well, as least, it would have been true if Jonah didn’t persist in avoiding his gaze, “Your other two numbers—heart and social—would be three and seven respectively. Threes are normally talented and creative, whereas sevens tend to be pessimistic, sarcastic, but enjoy intellectual challenges.”  
  
“And this is a class?” at least it sounded like Markus hadn’t fallen asleep yet.  
  
“Yup,” Jonah said, regaining his breath, trying for a smile, “That’s pretty much it when it comes to classes. After comes the tests and such.” A pause, Jonah hesitated, before he plowed on, “Was that in any way accurate at all?”  
  
“Yeah—as much as you can be with those things anyway.”  
  
Jo, nodded, grinned, “Yeah, I was just curious.”  
  
Markus nodded, but said nothing more. Quiet and thoughtful he remained, and Jonah found himself shifting nervously in his seat. For some reason, the proximity unnerved him. He wanted both to reach out and shy away, and Markus sat so close. Close enough so that Jonah could see the light reflected in Markus’ eyes, the little twitches of the muscles underneath his skin, the hands, relaxed, at his knees. He was so focused on the little details, that he was surprised to lift his gaze only to find that Markus was staring right back at him.  
  
The shock of it sent Jonah scrambling back on his seat offering a nervous smile and quickly muttering hasty ‘sorry’s as he drew back. Or attempted to—his back pressed against the back of the seat, his side against the window and that was that. Markus seemed amused, he leaned forward, and for a maddening moment Jonah thought he was going to be kissed by a complete stranger he had surely proved to be the cure for insomnia to, and he was unsure whether he wanted to lean forward to meet Markus’ lips or shy away like a blushing maiden. He hesitated for too long, however, in the end Markus merely flopped on his back, stretching out on the seat like a cat, and allowed his head to rest on Jonah’s lap.  
  
And all that Jonah could think as he felt the press of Markus’ weight against his lap, looking down at his face was that, damn, he'd have preferred the kiss.  
  
He gave a little squeak when he saw that Markus was not only looking up at him, but smiling. A slight quirk of his lips, and a glimmer in his eyes that hinted as mischievous amusement—Jonah found himself blushing, looking away, trying to pretend the contact didn’t alarm him as much as it did.  
  
“You make a comfortable pillow,” Markus said softly, watching Jonah’s reaction carefully through half-closed eyes.  
  
Jonah could do nothing more than squeak and blush, feeling his hands linger awkwardly on the seat’s fabric, trying to avoid touching Markus in any way, shape, or form if it could have been helped. Markus spared Jonah the misery of coming up with an adequate answer and spoke again, in a tone that was much too playful to hint at innocent curiosity: “They told me you shared your room with five?” he prompted.  
  
“Ah, yes,” avoid his eyes, hold wand awkwardly, try to figure out where it’s safe to set down your hands, “students are divided between houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw—you’ll learn more about them later, but the dormitories are in different parts of the castle. Then the students are set in different rooms and, usually, share their rooms with five other students.”  
  
“What house are you in then?” Jonah could still fell those warm eyes studying him, as if waiting for something.  
  
“I’m in Hufflepuff,” there was the hint of a smile on his lips as he spoke, “they classify you in a house by personality traits you see—there’s this hat that can see into your soul or some shit like that, and it decides what house fits you best.”  
  
Markus considered that, staying silent, before bobbing his head slightly on Jo’s lap, casting his eyes towards Jonah, prompting Jonah to flush bright cherry red and look away once more. “Ah, anyway,” better to distract with words, “it doesn’t much matter what house you end up in—houses normally share classes. Usually there’s two houses shoved in one classroom, like, say, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor took Potions together last year.”  
  
“So you’re saying I’ll still see you again?” there was a smile on his lips, and the thought seemed to please Markus so much that Jonah found himself smiling back.  
  
“Yeah. Probably will.”  
  
Jonah felt a bit silly to be looking down at Markus with a goofy grin on his lips, but suddenly the prospect of being able to see Markus throughout all of the year was so welcome that he couldn’t help it. He was feeling warm and happy, and Markus was looking at him with those amused brown eyes, with his head on Jonah’s lap looking content, and Jonah couldn’t even recall why he felt so uncomfortable. Suddenly he was possessed with the urge to touch Markus. To reach over and run his fingers through Markus’ hair, to feel the rush of blood and ripple of muscles underneath his fingertips as Markus’ breathed.   
  
Why the hell not? Markus was there, and he obviously did not seem to mind the contact—in fact, something in his eyes hinted at welcoming it, as if quietly daring Jonah to go ahead.   
  
Yet... some of Jonah’s reluctance remained, and it was only when Markus moved, his fingers lightly brushing against Jonah’s wand hand that it ebbed away.  
  
Jonah’s hand moved on its own volition, hesitated over Markus’ head, and smoothed Markus’ hair away from his forehead, and Markus didn’t even as peep in protest—he closed his eyes in content and leaned towards Jonah’s hand, relishing the contact. With one hand resting on Markus’ chest and the other smoothing back his hair Jonah leaned back, content. Markus might have said something, but Jonah barely registered it, only knew that suddenly Markus’ arm was around his waist, and his nose was digging into his stomach, and his hot breath could be felt through the fabric of Jonah’s shirt.  
  
A squeak escaped from Jonah’s lips. Markus chuckled then, cracking a single eye open to look up at Jonah with what looked like a smile. He shifted away from Jonah slightly then, opening his mouth to speak—  
  
And the door of the compartment was thrown open.


	3. Chapter 3

Jonah jumped, Markus managed to untangle himself just enough so he could lift his head and look at the door. He was unimpressed by what he saw, because the next moment his head flopped down to Jonah’s lap, and he pressed himself against Jonah’s stomach once more—which Jonah translated as a subtle ‘fuck you’.  
  
But, of course, Shannon couldn’t be bothered.  
  
Because it was indeed Jonah’s friend that stood by the door, wearing Capri pants, flip flops, and a pink baggy shirt that hung over her shoulders to reveal spaghetti-strap shirt just within, thick black curls bouncing over her shoulders as she moved. She walked three steps into the compartment, noticed how Markus was firmly lodged between herself and Jonah and stopped.  
  
“Am I interrupting something here?” were the first words out of her mouth.  
  
Jonah refrained from answering, stalling, not knowing what to say. The hand that had been resting on Markus’ shirt now tightened around the fabric of it. Part of Jonah wanted to tell Shannon to fuck off, the other was relieved to see that she wasn’t lost. For sure he knew he didn’t want to part from Markus—he wasn’t done. He knew Markus was about to say something, now he would never know what it was. Markus radiated tension now; he clung to Jonah like a drowning man clings to a life raft. No, he wouldn’t speak, even if Shannon left.  
  
“Yeah,” Jonah said, a bit more sharply than he intended, “you are.”  
  
It was then that Kim peeked around the corner, flashing Jo a thumbs up before he disappeared from sight with a trail of giggles.  
  
Jonah ignored him, “I was kinda, um, busy,” as much as an apology as Shannon would get at this point.  
  
“Uh-huh,” she flashed Jonah a grin, “I can see that, hun. But right now, you and I have some catching up to do,” a wink, “so if he could excuse us.”  
  
Jonah didn’t move, and neither did Markus. He was torn—he felt like he needed to apologize to Markus over and over again, but, for what? It wasn’t like their pants had been around their ankles or their tongues shoved down each other’s throats. He wanted to remain... yes, but he could tell by that look on Shannon’s face—she was going to be stubborn about it. A possibility was that in her eyes, she thought she was freeing Jonah from a crueler fate (can’t have him getting attached to some guy before school even started), but Jonah could only taste bitter separation. He wanted to linger with Markus, he even hungered for his touch, wanted to learn more about how he avoided the owls, and what he had been doing that he had earned so little sleep...  
  
She could read the reluctance in his eyes, he knew that, and the grin she flashed him was absolutely devilish then. “It’s a whee bit important, Jonah,” she persisted, “but we can talk here...”  
  
Markus needed sleep.  
  
But Markus seemed very open to staying awake just moments ago...  
  
Suddenly Markus was disentangling himself from Jonah, pushing himself so he was sitting up next to Jonah instead of splayed across his lap. His brown hair stuck up at odd angles, and he looked at Shannon then, a passing glance, eyes flicking towards the open door and the corridor before moving back to Jonah. “I’ll see you later then,” he said, his voice soft, gentle.  
  
It was over.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Jonah tried, barely holding back his tone from pleading, “I’ll see you later though—at the school.”  
  
Markus nodded.  
  
Feeling awkward and abrupt, Jonah rose to his feet, nodding at Shannon who squealed and waltzed off the compartment, with Jonah trailing close behind. He hesitated by the door, turning around to see Markus was watching him. His eyes dropped to the floor as he blushed. “Just remember to put on your cloak before you get off the train.”  
  
Markus looked confused again, “Cloak?”  
  
This time Jonah looked up, startled, unsure of what to answer. “You didn’t get your cloak?”  
  
Markus shook his head ‘no.’  
  
Oh. Perfect.  
  
Jonah flashed a grin then, “Wait right up then—you can borrow one of mine.”  
  
Jonah scrambled out of the compartment before Markus could answer, pausing in front of Shannon just long enough to ask where his bag was. There was a bit of questioning where Shannon mostly blinked and looked puzzled as to why Jonah showed such exuberance, but after some coaxing, he finally got his answer. It turned out they had picked the compartment just next to where he had found Markus. Excellent.  
  
“Jonah?” Shannon called after him, but Jonah ignored her once again. He had his perfect excuse so that a meeting between Markus and himself was assured. He wouldn’t let that one slide easily.  
  
When he popped the shelf of the compartment open, he didn’t even bother pulling down the bag—merely dug through it, setting everything inside in disarray, until his fingers brushed against the fabric of a cloak—Victory. Unceremoniously, Jo pulled it through the width of the open zipper and rushed out of the compartment, stepping to avoid both Shannon and Kim’s confused faces, and only stopping before the door to Markus’ compartment long enough to catch his breath.  
  
A nervous twitch made him hurriedly run his hands through his hair to make sure he didn’t look like he had just been practically running a few moments before. The same nervous twitch made him tug at his shirt to make sure it was all in order, before he stepped in, cloak draped over his arm.  
  
“Here we go,” he declared with a grin, offering his findings with an outstretched arm, “you can borrow it and return it whenever you get your own—don’t worry about how much time it’d take and whatnot.”  
  
Markus blinked, but took the cloak as offered, looking down at it with a frown before he lifted his gaze to meet Jonah’s. “Thanks.”  
  
Jonah grinned, and nodded, “Don’t mention it. I’ll see you again though, right?”  
  
Markus met Jonah’s grin with a small smile of his own, “Right.”  
  
Leaving the compartment proved to be a bit more challenging the third time. Jonah lingered, smiling at Markus, making the tentative offer that Markus should join them (which Markus declined with a polite ‘No, thank you’), making a few insignificant comments about how he could get his own cloak at the village near the school if that one didn’t fit before he was forced to make his departure. Markus merely nodded, the small traces of a smile lingered in his lips and promised that he’d see Jonah soon.  
  
Soon, the word made Jonah’s heart skip a beat as he followed Shannon and Kim back to their own compartment.


	4. Chapter 4

“Soon” proved to be quite a bit of time.  
  
The days stretched out without Jonah being able to so much as speak to Markus. He had seen him, of course, when they had gotten off the train he had nearly spoken to Markus (wearing his robes like he had instructed, making him flush bright red at the sight of it)—but then Markus’ name was called, and he was ushered away by one of the staff. What about Jonah couldn’t quite catch, but it was safe to assume that it had to do with his avoiding the owls.  
  
He had also seen Markus in passing through the school hallways. Jonah hadn’t stopped to interrupt him, however—Markus always looked harassed and in a hurry. Possibly they gave him a rush-hour schedule so he could take the classes needed. Maybe they gave him a time-turner. When Jo saw him, all he seemed to be doing was rushing from place to place.  
  
When he did see him calmer was during breakfast. Overnight, Markus had been shoved into Ravenclaw. Jonah had been a bit disappointed to see the purple and silver tie, instead of the yellow and black one of Hufflepuff, but it was to be expected. It would have been highly unlikely that Markus would end up in the same house as Jonah did.  
  
Jonah had been tempted, of course, to walk to Markus and talk to him then, but Markus never stuck around for long. Usually he pecked at his food with a tremendous lack of enthusiasm while reading one book or the other. He would linger perhaps for a full fifteen minutes before he was off again—presumably homework or some tutoring. Poor thing probably needed all the help he could get.  
  
Not that the thought eased Jonah’s mind.  
  
Once or twice he had seen Markus huddled between what Jonah assumed where his classmates—all of them wearing the pins and purple-and-silver ties of Ravenclaw. Something about the crowd unnerved him, and Jonah never attempted to linger. On one such occasion Markus had caught his eye and Jonah swore he saw the little flash of a smile on his lips. The moment passed too quickly, however, and Markus attention was turned from Jonah, to whoever was talking to him (a boy with a mess of raven black hair, tugging at Markus’ sleeve and saying something in a low voice).  
  
“You should just go talk to him,” Shannon said from the seat across from him.  
  
The voice startled Jonah out of his reverie—he hadn’t even realized, but his eyes had automatically scanned the room in search of Markus.  
  
“He’s busy,” and indeed, Markus was busy. There was a book slumped before his breakfast dish (scrambled eggs and buttered toast with orange juice), and he appeared to be deep in thought as he scanned the pages.  
  
“The boy is reading books twenty-four seven. I think he’d appreciate a little someone distracting his thoughts from it.”  
  
“Or maybe he just wants peace and quiet.”  
  
“Ah, c’mon, Jo—he was practically humping you on the train. I doubt he’d mind being interrupted by you.”  
  
“And it could have been so much more...” his voice was wistful.  
  
Shannon blushed bright pink at the thought, “Yeah, I am sorry about that—I didn’t know—I was just—I’m sorry, Jo. I wasn’t really thinking—I just assumed—”  
  
“Hey, chill, Shannon. Jo already said it was OK,” Kim chimed in, looking up from a magazine with a crooked grin. “Nothing to be done about it now—Jo just needs to regain his courage and go get his man.”  
  
“Markus won’t even remember me.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure he was checking you out just now,” said Kim with another grin, eyes dropping to his magazine to signal that he wouldn’t say more about the subject.  
  
“Eyes on the back of his head, that one,” said Shannon with a shrug, turning the silver fork on her hand to nudge at the food before her. “Kim’s right though—I’m pretty sure he’d love a little chat with you.”  
  
“I’m always right.”  
  
Jonah didn’t even bother arguing with Shannon—let alone Kim. He sighed, gaze dropping back to his food and furtively picking at it. At the Ravenclaw table, Markus lingered for a moment longer, chewing on a piece of toast before he looked up towards the clock—eyes widening, and moving in a rush to gather his things. He was gone when Jonah looked back up again.  
  
Potions was the class. Jonah never had any real problem with Potions—in fact, he excelled at it. He had been one of the best students from the start. Yes, he made mistakes—occasionally tipping a little too much in the pot, overheating the mixture by too little or too much. Some turned out stale, some too weak, some too strong, but usually the potions he concocted tended to be around the best in class.  
  
It was while he had been talking to Kim, explaining patiently how he’d only need one rat spleen to complete the potion and not two, as he argued with his friend, that the professor drew close to their table, startling Jonah when she cleared her throat, saying in her whispery little voice: “Mr. Atten—a word?”  
  
Always the dutiful student, Jonah dropped what he was doing, muttering a last warning to Kim to keep his eye on the cauldron before he turned to follow the professor where she waited—behind a thick oak desk piled high with torn leather-bound books.  
  
Professor Berg looked up at him from under thick-rimmed glasses that she pushed down the bridge of her nose almost spasmodically. A hand fluttered over a seemingly random paper, hovered and hesitated over it, and then she scooped it up, frowning at the letters through tiny grey eyes.  
  
“This year is a bit busier than expected, and we know you’re a bright student, Atten, so we thought that you’d be interested in providing help to the newer students that are having a bit of trouble?” she pronounced each word carefully, making Jonah unsure if the words were written on the paper or if she simply gazed at it to confuse him. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care to explain, because she plowed on with barely a breath, “You’ll be given compensation for your work, of course, and we’d try to fit the students in your tight schedule but if you’d be willing...”  
  
“What exactly would I be helping on?” the question needed to be asked—the lady seemed to think Jonah had the ability to read minds.  
  
She blinked as the question registered in her buzzing skull, and then squinted, making Jonah shift uncomfortably where he stood. She nodded at him and flicked her gaze back to the paper before answering him. “Tutoring them, of course. I figured mostly in potions since you’re one of my best students by far, I could give you the course requirements and provide you with books as a refresher, and it’d be a great help... though we’re aware of your talent in charms as well. It’s not compulsory, mind you. But it’d be a great help.”  
  
“Ah, now or...?”  
  
“No, no, no. Lessons would start next week; it’d have to be a regularly scheduled thing, planning and all that. But if you’re interested...”  
  
“I’ll think about it,” he said with a nod.   
  
The professor bobbed her head, and turned back to her papers without so much of a word, leaving Jonah wondering if he had been dismissed or not. He lingered just long enough to make sure she was done, before he awkwardly departed from the desk.  
  
“What was that all about?” were the first words out of Kim’s mouth once Jo was within earshot.  
  
“Tutoring,” he spoke once he was besides Kim, nudging the taller student aside so he could peak at the cauldron’s contents. Jonah only resumed his explanation once he was satisfied that the mixture wasn’t about to explode; “Berg wants me to tutor the new ones with potions for one reason or the other. Told me I had a week to think about it.”  
  
A snort, “Yeah, well, unless you make a potion to have three of you, I don’t know how that’s going to happen.”  
  
“We’ll see. She hinted at extra credit, and, hey, that can come in handy.”  
  
“You mean, you’re hoping you don’t have to take a final?”  
  
A smile threatened to tug at the corner’s of Jonah’s lips, so he dropped his gaze away from Kim’s criticizing gaze, to back to the cauldron, making a mental note out of the thick consistency of the mixture as he poked it with a wooden spoon. A bubble popped and the mixture hissed as Jonah watched on.  
  
“You added the two rat spleens anyway, didn’t you?”  
  
“You sleazy sewer rat,” Kim was not one to be easily swayed from a subject, “you’re going to skip the final.”  
  
“Kim. Concentrate. Rat spleens. How many?”  
  
“And you’re hoping to skip a few assignments in between too?”  
  
“Who said anything about assignments? Kim. Seriously. Spleens,” this time Jonah accentuated the words by poking into the mixture with the spoon, glaring down at the bubbles.  
  
“I don’t know. I didn’t pay attention. A few,” an exasperated sigh, “so does that mean you’re skipping the test?”  
  
“I don’t know—wait. What do you mean “a few”? Kim! Fuck! It was only one. Do you want to kill the whole school?”  
  
“No? Why? Is it magical Viagra?”  
  
“No, you idiot—it’s poison.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
And 'Oh' seemed to be the only thing Kim could manage as he stared at the potion, blue eyes glued to the bubbling surface, and eyes going wide. Another “Oh,” slipped from his lips before he gave an unsteady step away from the table, seeming to reconsider the meaning of the class for a moment.  
  
“Tell the professor,” Jonah suggested helpfully.  
  
The only response from Kim was to scramble away from the table in the general direction of the Professor’s desk, swerving to avoid a female student, and twisting back around another desk when he failed to plow through it.  
  
Jonah watched his route without barely moving, a wooden spoon in one hand, and the edge of the table in the other. Slowly, he tore his eyes away from Kim’s back, and poked the bubbling potion with a sigh.  
  
The rest of the class went by in a slow, brain-tearing, mind-melting drone. Professor Berg had not been amused in the slightest by Kim’s latest blunder, and she had decided to make painfully obvious. The lecture she gave them was hardly new (“I am disappointed in you, students. To think that you would make these kinds of blunders at this height of your life,” yadda, yadda, yadda), but the fact that this time, her gaze seemed to be directed, more often than not, directly at Jonah’s table didn’t make him any more comfortable. So he stood and shifted on his feet the rest of the class, giving the clock on the wall furtive glances and wondering why the hands seemed to crawl along more than usual.  
  
In the end, she had to dismiss them when the hour was up, and she did so reluctantly, throwing at their retreating backs more condescending commentary as they departed on shuffling feet, keeping their heads down as to not attract her rage.


	5. Chapter 5

“Man, that sucked,” Kim whimpered as soon as they were out of the door, tugging at his tie to show just how upset he was.  
  
“Yeah, but at least we’re out,” was all Jonah could manage, not even having the energy to remind Kim that it had been his entire fault in the first place.  
  
A flash of pastel orange out of the corner of his eye, made him turn his head, only to see the bouncing curls and a grinning face as Shannon skidded into view. Jonah was unsurprised to note that the flash of orange were a series of ribbons Shannon had somehow managed to tie into her hair—bouncing left and right as she walked. “How did class go?” she chirped.  
  
“Kim made magical serial killing Viagra.”  
  
“Viagra?” of course that was the only word Shannon heard.  
  
“I forgot about the rat spleens and made some deadly poison that could’ve killed the whole school, apparently.”  
  
“Oh. Fun,” Shannon always did manage to see the bright side of things.  
  
“How did your class go?” change the subject, Jonah.  
  
“Well, y’know, herbology is herbology. It can’t get duller than that—at least nothing tugged the ribbons out of my head. I spent too much time getting the damn things in.”  
  
“How are they tied?” Kim chirped in.  
  
“No—wait, never mind. Forget about the ribbons. Jonah,” she sang, all smiles, dropping her voice in volume to whisper at his ear, “Cutie looking cute at twelve o’clock.”  
  
And there was indeed a cutie looking cute at twelve o’clock.  
  
Except this cutie usually went by the name of Markus.  
  
Because it was indeed Markus—the Ravenclaw students seemed to have decided to cluster together in borrowed library seats in the section where the hallway split in two. Markus sat with his back pressed against the seat’s cushion, his eyes flicking from place to place with nothing of interest to look at. His chair stood a tad set apart from the rest of the students, though not enough. A girl chattered in his ear with a book balanced in her knee—two other girls and a male surrounding her in rapt attention, listening carefully to whatever she was telling Markus.  
  
Whatever they were telling Markus, it was bad. Markus looked as if he would rather fling himself off a cliff than continue listening to their dribble.  
  
“Well, hello there—I’d say that’s some JSM right there.”  
  
“JSM?” Jonah was almost afraid to ask.  
  
“Jonah Save Me, of course.”  
  
As luck would have it, at that precise moment Markus lifted his gaze, almost as if he had heard Shannon’s blabber and his brown eyes locked with Jonah’s.  
  
Jonah looked away, blushing bright red, suddenly aware of Markus’ gaze on him. “Don’t be ridiculous, Shannon. He’s probably studying.”  
  
“Studying the contours of your body, I hope you mean. In that case, he is paying rather close attention,” Kim said.  
  
“Shut up,” Jonah hissed.  
  
“At least say hi to him, Jo. He won’t eat you for saying hi.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“A nod?” Shannon.  
  
“No.”  
  
“A kiss?” Kim.  
  
“_No._”  
  
Shannon frowned, Kim smirked. Jonah suddenly felt like the very unwilling center of attention—Kim and Shannon prodding at the monkey until he hopped. Worst of all, from the look in their faces, he wasn’t about to dodge this bullet in any way shape of form. It seemed unlikely he was about to be swallowed up by the walls or swept away by a crowd—so hop for the masses it was.  
  
But he still had to try. Jonah opened his mouth, preparing what he thought was a very good excuse when—  
  
“That’s the shortest way to the lunch table,” Shannon argued.  
  
How did she shoot that one down so fast before he even had a chance to voice it?  
  
“We can cut around the—”  
  
“Seriously, Jo? Leave us starving and walking more?”  
  
Jonah tried to argue again, but from the dark look Kim flashed him, there would be no winning this one. Shannon flashed a cheeky smile once she saw the defeat cloud Jonah’s eyes. Jonah sighed. He had been efficiently cornered and defeated. “Alright, but you owe me one.”  
  
The words were barely out of his mouth before Kim and Shannon aligned to his left—forcing Jonah to walk on the right side of the hallway and directly within Markus’ reach. Jonah tried to shift away, to change positions, to push them away, but Shannon barely shuffled her feet, and Kim flashed him a smirk that said Jo was as good as cooked—they would not relent.  
  
Jonah made a mental note to kill them all later.  
  
He concentrated on keeping his steps slow and even—too late he realized Kim and Shannon had every intention of crawling along the hallway, their walk barely more than a three centimeter shuffle. Jonah would be forced to endure this hell at a slow crippling pace that would assure him that Markus would see him—and that snails would reach the lunch table faster than they.  
  
Shannon started a pleasant flow of chatter that helped to soothe Jonah, if only for its familiarity. Jonah’s skull was buzzing too much to really pay attention to Shannon’s words. He knew she was speaking about her last class with a few details of her morning thrown in, with Kim throwing a commentary or a question her way every now and then—that much he could discern. Jo only focused enough to nod at the right instances, but that was about it. Half of his mind was focused on the too-fast approaching encounter.  
  
Markus now sat forward on the chair, clearly not paying attention to the girl at his ear. Whether she noticed this or not, she did not outwardly display it; or perhaps even care—from Jonah’s position he could clearly make out the lilt and volume of her voice and even pick up a few words. She must have been screaming in Markus’ ear from what Jonah could pick up. For his part, Markus still nodded every now and then, but from the pained expression on his face, and the way he was on the edge of his seat, as if ready to leap at a moment’s notice, it looked like he was ready to beat it. Maybe he was simply waiting for the appropriate moment to do so? A little “excuse me” and out he went. Maybe he realized he was late to one class or the other and would have to depart soon. Maybe Jonah was imagining the look in his eyes. Maybe he was actually overjoyed to hear the girl’s pretty words and feel her warm breath at his ear.  
  
Jonah looked away as the distance grew shorter; trying to look as if Shannon’s conversation was the most fascinating thing he had heard in all his life despite the fact that the words went over his head. He tried to ignore the fact that his legs seemed to be twitching into place, and that his hands trembled. His eyes pointedly looked away from Markus, trying to look nonchalant and natural. His heart gave a painful squeeze in his chest.  
  
The moment was fast approaching, the distance between the cluster of Ravenclaw students and Jonah himself was closing. It was only mere seconds before he walked past Markus. Shannon’s chatter kept a steady rhythm, and Kim’s smirk grew larger. It was just a matter of seconds, Jonah told himself. Just a matter of—  
  
Something wrapped around his waist and tugged him towards the wall. Jonah gave a very unattractive squeak, and suddenly he was sitting down on something not entirely plush and comfortable, but not entirely square and awkward either. The hold on him shifted slightly, and there was a sudden weight pressing against his left shoulder. Behind him he heard someone gasp.  
  
A voice at his ear, warm and soft: “Hey.”  
  
Pathetically enough, that was enough to send shivers up Jo’s spine.  
  
Carefully, he craned his head to look over his shoulder—the hold on him shifted again, and the weight on the back of his shoulder lifted. He was both pleasantly surprised and horror-struck to meet Markus’ warm brown eyes head on. To realize that the breath tickling his skin was Markus’—that the arms wrapped around his waist and the not-so-plush seat he was currently sitting on was all Markus. All Markus.  
  
All. Markus.  
  
So perhaps it was understandable that the first startled words out of Jonah’s mouth were along the lines of a startled: “Ah, Markus!”  
  
The crowd falls silent.  
  
It was then that Jonah noticed that although Markus was clearly holding Jonah pinned to his lap and was enjoying the fact very much, the girl that had been chattering had the single most shocked expression Jo had ever seen on a human being—and she looked far from pleased. Her jaw was slack, her eyes wide, almost horrified, her hand held up frozen in place under her chin. Even the Ravenclaw students nearby seemed to have suddenly fallen silent (a re-check of the people surrounded him, and Jonah concluded they were somehow all related with the girl—the rest of the students couldn’t care less or even noticed, it was just those around her who seemed to have fallen deathly quiet).  
  
Perhaps most startling of it all was that Markus had a tiny mischievous little smile hovering over his lips; that his eyes were alight with it, and it was directed right at Jo.  
  
Jonah looked away, blushing. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but no words came out. Markus remained quiet, watchful, attentive, then when it became obvious that Jonah had grown mentally addled, he wrapped his arms tighter around him and leaned back on the chair, forcing Jonah to rest against his chest.  
  
“It’s nice to see you again,” Markus spoke up again, still trying to keep his voice low and gentle.  
  
Jo recovered his grasp of basic language: “It’s good to see you too.”  
  
Markus remained silent, he nuzzled the side of Jonah’s throat and Jo couldn’t help but feel his ears grow warm. He needed to say something more, he knew, but what? What could he say to Markus that would explain everything and yet still make sense?  
  
“I... I’ve been wanting to come and talk to you again—it’s just you—I just—you always seem so busy and I didn’t want to bother you, and I’m sorry about that, Markus. I mean, if you’re busy now I can leave, it’s OK, I just—I just—I’m really glad I can get to talk to you now.”   
  
“I’m glad too.”  
  
The words were so welcome the only thing Jonah could do for a moment is lean back and press himself against Markus, closing his eyes, trying to enjoy the feel of having Markus so close and—  
  
“Ah, guys, I’m really sorry to interrupt, and no cockblocking intention is meant here, but Jo? Kim and I are going to go ahead to the lunch table,” slowly, Jonah looked up, surprised to see a blushing Shannon. Her eyes were directed away from them, dropping to her toes, her shoe scuffed the floor. Kim stood just behind her—grinning at the sight before him. Markus’ arms around his waist grew suddenly tighter, almost strangling.  
  
“And don’t worry about class—I’ll take care of it,” Kim piped in, always the jolly good sport. Jonah had to look away to hide his flushed cheeks.  
  
Shannon flushed and shuffled awkwardly for a few moments, before she looked up to flash a shy smile at Markus, turning to Jonah, and nodding her head in approval, making the ribbons bounce. Kim winked, and thrust his arm forward to wrap around Shannon’s elbow, efficiently steering her away with a few tugs and a grin flashed in Jonah’s direction. Almost as an afterthought he threw over his shoulder in a sing-song: “Good luck!”  
  
Markus watched the parade in silence, his eyes following Kim’s and Shannon’s until they slithered out of sight. Even after they were gone her remained silent, the hold on Jonah’s waist never loosening until at last he spoke up.  
  
“What was the point of that?”  
  
“I, ah, I think it was in case I was sending SOS signals and wanted to leave.”  
  
Markus considered that for a few moments, chewing it over, before he nodded, biting back a smile. “Planning on cutting the next class then?”  
  
Jo flushed bright red but refrained from answering—dodging the question with the efficiency of a lame mule, stumbling over his own words in a rush to make some kind of flaky excuse, and instead vouching for saying: “How has your stay on Hogwarts been so far then?”  
  
“It’s alright. Takes a little while getting used to.”  
  
“Yeah,” Jo said with a nod, “it does. It’ll pass, but what are you doing for classes then?”  
  
“They’re OK,” was the only comment he offered, quickly changing the subject. “How have you been though?”


	6. Chapter 6

They talked for what felt like hours.

Eventually Jo moved from Markus’ lap, to sit by his side. Honestly, it was uncomfortable and cramped—a chair meant for one could hardly be called ideal to share between two. Half of Jo’s ass was wedged between the seat’s cushion and the armrest, one leg was crossed over the other, plus his hands rested on his legs in an attempt to keep them from straying into Markus’ space. Markus was in a similar position, but he never made a comment towards it. Jo followed his example—even when one of his legs started to cramp, he held his tongue.

The talk was pleasant. Markus proved to be both bright and engaging, though he rather preferred to listen than to talk. He was overworked, and weary to the bone—he lived for the little rest he obtained every lunch hour, and whatever precious little hours of sleep he managed to grasp. He was shoved in every lesson—from first years, to classes were he wound up being the only Ravenclaw student, but it was not so bad. At least, he made it sound that way.

There were a few rough spots, but nothing major. Mostly it was students shunning him for his sudden appearance. A roommate even told him they had a rumor going about that he had been involved in some crime ring and was a reformed criminal. When Jo asked if that was true, he gave Jo a curious look, and smiled. He said nothing more on the subject.

Markus was a fascinating subject, though he seldom spoke about himself, even when pressed, and what little information Jo managed to gather was reluctantly given. It seemed that as far as he knew, both his parents were muggles, but something happened that he moved out of their house (Jo wasn’t sure what prompted the decision, as Markus side-stepped around the subject). The owls had a difficult time finding him, simply because he led the life of a nomad for a few months—hopping from town to town, bus to bus, train to train, winding up in places he’d never seen and sleeping where he could. It was only once he settled down that he started noticing the flock of owls that seemed to hound his every move. In the end, it wasn’t the owls that found him though. Jo pressed for more information, but he was met with a cold and curt wall. Whatever it was, Markus wasn’t prepared to share, so the Hufflepuff let the subject drop.

He asked about Jo—and a lot of it. Mostly, he directed the conversations towards Jo’s school life, which Jo always tried to answer as best he could, and maybe he flourished his tales a little. About his personal life, the questions were basic, and not nearly as intrusive as Jo’s had been. He asked where Jo lived, and if he had siblings. He asked if he had family within the school—and was pleasantly surprised when Jo admitted the herbology teacher was his cousin, and that he knew the Slytherin heads rather well. He asked about traditions of the school, and, curiously enough, what Jo preferred to eat. He was interested about the Hufflepuff dormitory as well—it seemed he wasn’t made aware of how drastically different the houses were.

“Are you planning on cutting class?”

The question came as a surprise to Jo, seeing as the subject they were on was quite different at that precise moment.

“I would, but not much of a point being all by myself. You need to go to class, don’t you?”

“I need a nap,” Markus was blunt in that at least—and he very much looked the part. His hair was in a shaggy disarray, there were heavy bags under his eyes, and he yawned often, though it was always followed with a shy smile and a quick apology. “But I’d much rather spend time with you.”

Jo bit back a smile. He looked away from Markus towards the hall, his eyes scanning his surroundings for signs of eavesdroppers. As time passed, the hall had gradually emptied until only a few stragglers remained, huddled in tight groups and talking amongst themselves. The girl that had been talking with Markus had left too. Most likely, they’d have all gone to have lunch.

“We’ll need to move fast then. Any idea where to go?”

Markus’ fingers found Jo’s wrist and tightened around them. He stood up, gracelessly, nearly stumbling over his own two feet in his haste. Despite the blunder, when he lifted his eyes to look at Jo between his mop of shaggy hair, he smiled.

“Let’s go where the wind leads us,” he sang, urging Jo to his feet.

Jo followed him as eagerly as he could, nearly stumbling himself. Markus’ arms clutched at him, steadying him. He felt his cheeks grow hot as he looked down at his feet, but when he finaly looked up, Markus was smiling.

He looked away, feeling his cheeks flush even more, but Markus paid no mind to it. Tugging at Jo’s wrist, he led the way, their footsteps echoing across the hallways.

Markus twisted and spun into so many hallways, up stairs, and down some others that soon enough Jo lost track of where he was. Never once did Markus hesitate upon an entrance, or think too much about his surroundings—a fleeting glance and that was all. Although, it unnerved Jo to lose his bearings, he decided to follow Markus’ lean back under arches and across twisted hallways all the same. They did not walk for long before they chanced upon a hallway with doors at either side. From where they stood, Jo could hear the clutter of footsteps and echoing voices, though he could not see the owners. A small oval-shaped painting hung over the wall to Jo’s left, but Jo couldn’t bring himself to look at it—butterflies seemed to have hosted a great army and his stomach, and he feared if he opened his mouth, some would fly straight for Markus’ face. The arm Markus did not hold was trembling. 

Markus turned to him then, before Jo could lose himself in a sea of nerves, a small smile hanging over his lips, and he released his hold on Jo’s wrist.

“Where are we?” Jo glanced around the hallway feeling clueless. It looked to be just the same as the rest—windowless with marble floors and walls.

“I take tutoring here,” Markus explained, looking about himself, “no one uses the classrooms at this hour, though I don’t have the keys. I just thought it’d be a bit more... well, private.”

Jo half-smiled at that, “And why would we need privacy?”

Markus gave him an odd look, half of his lips quirking up in a smile. “Who knows,” he drew closer to Jo then, “maybe we can think of a fun game.”

He did not shy away when Markus lifted his hand to set it against Jo’s face, despite the fact that his stomach gave a nervous flip-flop. “Better think up of one fast then,” Jo was relieved when his voice came out steady.

The smile widened, and the fingers traced Jo’s cheek down to his chin, “I think I have an idea. Close your eyes.”

Jo tried not to giggle as did as Markus instructed, stepping back to his shoulders pressed against the wall behind him. Markus followed his lead, setting his hands against the cold marble to either side of Jo. Jo held his breath, nervously chewing on his bottom lip before he realized what he was doing. He almost felt like apologizing to Markus then, but his throat squeezed shut around the words—and with good reason too. Surely, speaking would be worse.

He drew closer—his warm breath tickled Jo’s face, and the warmth of his hands pressed against Jo. It still came as a surprise when the lips pressed against his—even more of one, when Markus traced Jo’s lips with his tongue, and set his teeth against Jo’s bottom lip, giving it a little tug.

He willingly relented—parting his lips so Markus could taste more of him. When the hands wrapped around his waist, pressing his groin to his, it was with a sharp inhale of breath. He held the contact there as his hands slowly traced Jo’s form, and he only parted the kiss to draw breath.

Jo smiled at him, breathing hard, feeling his face hot and flushed. The butterflies seemed to be marching into his chest, stirring and beating at his panicked heart. When Markus did not move away, he allowed his hands to trace Markus’ arms.

“I like this game,” he breathed, trying to ignore his awkwardness.

When he looked up, Markus was grinning—his eyes bright and excited.


End file.
